Stupid Questions
by ButterbeerOnBakerStreet
Summary: Finnick makes her whole. And it turns out Annie helped fix him too. A night spent on the beach in District 4, after Annie's games and before the Quarter Quell. Finnick has a few things to ask his love. A bit fluffy. Annie's POV.


The last few hours of daylight were coming to an end, the sinking sun shooting bright pink and orange streaks across the cloudless sky. The sand felt cool between my toes, in stark contrast to the scorching heat of it this afternoon. Finnick and I had spent the day frolicking in the waves, building sandcastles, and dozing together in the sunshine. It was the first really hot day since the rain and storms of winter had ended, and we made sure to soak up as much Vitamin D as we could. Now we walked along the tide line hand in hand, looking for the perfect spot to stargaze, just out of reach of the slowly retreating waves.

As I looked out towards the darkening horizon, my mind flashed back to the arena. I wasn't in District 4 with Finnick, but back in the barren wasteland of the 70th Hunger Games. I wasn't looking at the sparkling sea I had seen all day, but a wall of water barreling towards me, about to send me crashing through the desert, gasping for breath, struggling to find the surface. The cannons for the other tributes, the ones that couldn't swim like I could, ricocheted around the inside of my skull. A very small part of me in the back of my mind knew it couldn't be real, but a much larger part was telling me to scream, because it was.

I felt pressure on my left hand, a gentle squeeze. I turned my head sharply and locked onto a pair of sea-green eyes.

"Annie," he murmured. "I'm right here. Come back to me."

The arena and the flood and the death melted away and I was back on the shore near the Victor's Village, gripping my anchor to reality. My breaths calmed, my heartbeat slowed back to its regular speed. The tension in my shoulders eased, and I dropped my hands from their previous position, clamped over my ears. The corners of his mouth pulled up a little, but his eyes were still full of worry. The episodes happened less often now, and usually only when Finnick was away. But sometimes, certain sights, sounds, or even smells would send me hurtling back to the games. If Finnick hadn't been with me for the months after I was crowned victor, his hand warm and steady in mine, I would have never left.

"I'm okay now," I said truthfully. "I'm sorry."

"You know you don't have anything to apologize for," he chided, as he wrapped a strong arm around my waist and pressed his lips to my temple. We resumed our easy pace along the sand, until we found the perfect spot to set up our little camp. Finnick dropped the heavy tote and knelt down to pull out our blankets. He spread the largest down on the sand. I crawled into the middle and yanked two more blankets from the bag. Finnick grabbed the small thermos of hot chocolate and joined me under the stars just beginning to emerge from the sky. He scooted under the layers and moved closer to me, so I could duck my head under his arm and rest it against his chest. He used the hand that wasn't curled around my waist to pull through my dark tresses.

It was quiet for a while. I rose and fell with each deep breath Finnick took. He was the first to break the silence.

"Was it Osric again?" Finnick asked softly. He was referring to my district partner in the games. Hearing his name brought the grisly image of his head being sliced clean off by the girl from District 2 to the front of my mind. I flinched automatically as I saw his body crumple beneath him, felt his hot blood splash my face. I turned and buried my face in Finnick's chest. His arms tightened around me.

"I'm so sorry Annie, that was a stupid question. I didn't mean to make you see it again, I just thought talking about it might help. You don't have to, just forget I asked." His words tumbled out of his mouth quickly, wanting to take away some of my pain.

"It wasn't Osric this time." My voice was muffled by Finnick's sweater. "It was the flood again."

"Do you think it was the ocean that triggered it? You were fine all day."

I sighed. "We were in the water all day, more time spent swimming than we have in a long time. It was bound to happen sometime. Finn, what if this happens every time?" It took weeks before I could even stand to put my toes in the stuff. It took all my strength, and Finnick's coaxing, to get me out far enough to paddle in the surf.

"Practice makes perfect. You did so well today. Maybe we have to keep it up, keep swimming. You can't let it scare you anymore." He pulled me closer and into a kiss, brief, but conveying all of his feelings, his belief in me. "Annie?" His voice has a new edge to it. It was higher pitched, almost nervous sounding, a rare occurrence in Finnick Odair's confident purr.

He pulled away, shifting to the other end of the blanket, facing me with his back to the ocean. His eyes never left mine. Finnick ran a hand through his tousled bronze curls before taking my hands in both of his.

"Annie," he said again. "Annie Cresta. When we…found each other, I was broken. The Capitol took me and shook me and tore me apart. They forced me to grow up too fast, stole my future, and replaced it with secrets and corruption. I was their toy." He paused and I watched a shiver run through him. "You were still whole. You were young and happy and had your entire life ahead of you. I watched from a screen as they took that and tore you to pieces, too. When I was your mentor, you didn't realize it but you had already started putting me back together, even as you were falling apart. I fought with everything I had to get you out of there alive. And when you did just that, I knew I wanted to help glue you back together, too. Annie, you are the strongest person I've ever known. You're a fighter, in every sense of the word."

Here, he stopped again to move his hand up to my face, cupping my cheek and running his fingers over my cheekbone.

"I want you to see that. I wish you could see yourself how I see you. A beautiful, loving, kindhearted fighter. I could live a thousand lifetimes and still not deserve you. I hope it isn't out of the question to ask you to spend the rest of this one with me. Annie, will you marry me?" His face was that of a 14-year-old boy asking a girl to the Fisherman's Festival for the first time, a mix of hope and terror. The tears welling behind my lids finally overflowed. I looked at his anxious expression and couldn't help myself when I started to laugh. He was puzzled at my reaction, the trace of a smile on his lips.

"Finnick," I gasped between giggles, "some questions are so stupid they don't even deserve an answer." His face split in an impossibly wide grin. He dove forward and tackled me, smothering me in kisses. My face, my neck, nowhere was free from his adoration. He pulled me into him for a searing kiss. I could feel all of his love and exultation in his lips, his boundless euphoria. When he finally pulled away, it was much to soon.

"I love you, Finnick," I whispered in his ear.

"I love you too Annie. I adore you. I worship you. I _want_ you."

I brought his lips back to mine and pulled his body closer, happy to comply. I looked up into his sea-green eyes and saw that he was crying too. Finnick Odair, the dazzling darling of the Capitol crying tears of joy for his poor, mad girl back home, and the new life they were going to build.


End file.
